


Swann

by Nana_41175



Series: 007 Fest Writings 2020 [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pining, an examination of Bond's psyche, mild spoilers for No Time to Die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/pseuds/Nana_41175
Summary: After the wreckage that was her relationship with James Bond, Dr. Madeleine Swann sees Bill Tanner and reflects.
Relationships: Bill Tanner and Madeleine Swann, James Bond/Madeleine Swann
Series: 007 Fest Writings 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824400
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	Swann

**Author’s Notes:** Hey everyone! Welcome to another ficlet, this time featuring _(le gasp!)_ Madeleine Swann.

Everyone who knows me knows that I am no fan of hers in Spectre. She’s such a male construct of the ideal woman, created principally to provide the movie its Bond Girl, with the title of “Doctor” slapped on to make her smart and accomplished without providing any receipts in the form of action, words or logical thought processes in the script to account for any of it. (It’s even more of a mystery why Bond would give everything up for her when she’s got all the winning personality traits of cardboard.) For the longest time, I disliked to even think of her. But then, it’s hardly her fault that she was written this way. It’s such a waste of a woman character when we can give her more credit by fleshing her out from her paper doll status.

This ficlet captures her at her lowest ebb as we have seen so far in all the NTTD trailers, and paints a deeply unflattering portrait of Bond, bless him. It’s her POV, after all. Do let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

Beta read by the lovely [**christinefromsherwood**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood). Thank you, darlin!

* * *

She did not need her doctorate in clinical psychology to realize that she was damaged. She did not need to be in analysis to understand why she drew, and was drawn to, complicated men— ruthless, charismatic, dangerous men. They were the only type she’d ever known, given her background and the forces that had destroyed her family, sending her fleeing for her life several times in the course of more than a decade. Trouble always found its way to her and she had learned to manipulate these creatures before they could use and discard her.

That had been the way, always. She had promised herself that there would be no exceptions.

However, there was something different with Bond, or perhaps it was wishful thinking— a need to realize that she had been wrong in her initial clinical assessment of him (where the terms Machiavellianism, subclinical narcissism and subclinical psychopathy largely featured). And yes, there was no getting around the fact that being terrified while in the grip of a powerful terrorist organization and having to depend on a strong, handsome man for her life had the power to skewer one’s judgement.

She had promised herself that she would never need a man to save her. She’d be her own savior, yet she had fallen for him based on that tiny, silver lining of goodness she’d glimpsed in his person. This efficient, brutal killer, who could be gentle and protective and loyal.

He was not kind, but then she already knew that, so it should not have been a problem.

Only in the end, it was, and she had only herself to blame for allowing herself to hope that she could finally lay down all her fears and they could live happily ever after.

After everything had been said and done, and they’d ridden off into the sunset to be together; after the world tour that capped a years-long honeymoon when they thought they could not be happier, they’d found they could not settle down to anything resembling a normal life because they were not normal people.

She was more used to normalcy, having spent weeks, even months at a time when things had been quiet and she’d managed to get a job and get on with her life. She craved it. On the other hand, he was like the wind, untamable and restless. And bored, out of place in the humdrum of daily life, like a lion missing his teeth and claws.

She’d learned soon enough that _ennui_ did not become James Bond. Some nights, he’d slip away to crawl the bars when she’d gone to bed, returning to her side hours later smelling of smoke and alcohol and possibly other women.

Did he miss the job he’d left behind? The life he’d led before he met her? He wouldn’t admit it, wouldn’t even talk about it, and it was fine. They were alike in that sense, with far too many secrets up their sleeves. There would be times when he’d look at her a certain way and she could feel him putting the pieces together.

_Forgive me for what you have yet to discover of me. Believe me, I’ve kept things from you only because it was for your own sake._

In the end, perhaps even without the secrets, they were just too alike. Too stubborn and independent, easily chafing at restraints, real or imagined. She’d found him overbearing in his Alpha maleness, his tendency to do things his way and his way alone. He’d thought her a two-faced bitch who had betrayed him, made a fool of him.

_We all have our secrets. I’ve just not got to yours yet._

She’d watched in horror as their world fell apart in a spray of bullets and blood on old cobblestones. Here, again, a pattern that had repeated itself throughout her life had emerged: her lover was suddenly a stranger, cold-eyed and furious.

There were the same men outside their car, firing at them, the same gore splattered in the streets. She’d been numb as she was hauled in and made to accept the offer of help from MI6 in exchange for everything she knew.

The time for reckoning had come.

She sat in a tiled, underground office that was little more than a cell and watched the man in the suit come in. He was nice, quiet. Balding, with regular features. His soft, even tones soothed her jangling nerves. He’d been the one to make arrangements for her the moment she came in, dazed and disheveled. He’d been the one to set the generous terms of her asylum.

She looked at him now and knew his name: Bill Tanner. M’s Chief of Staff. Doubtless an extremely capable man who got the job done and more, when the occasion demanded it, and went home to a wife and children for dinner almost every night. His person and his home would be a sanctuary to the people he loved. A kind, decent man who had seen her not as a possible villain, but a woman in genuine distress and bade 007 to shut up.

In the course of her stay here, she’d seen how these people handled the man she’d loved. Still loved? She wasn’t quite sure right now how she felt about him.

They all had their own ways, though she must say the reed-slim, bespectacled Quartermaster knew best how to deal with Bond, with his sharp mind and even quicker, cutting tongue. There was mutual respect there, and quite possibly something more, though the young man known as Q seemed far too clever to succumb to someone like Bond.

Unlike her despite all her clinical training.

And she could not match that level of verbal play that had Q outwitting Bond each time, when her way was to remain silent and to fade and disappear, just as she’d always done. It was much quicker that way and a lot less messy.

So now she sat, and gazed at Bill Tanner as he spoke to her softly, gently inquiring after her day so far. It would not end for several hours more. She was under interrogation, after all; no matter how civil these people would term it: _interview._

She sat and thought how she would have gladly traded everything, _everything_ , to be with somebody like this man— someone entirely ordinary, gifted with the freedom that came with anonymity; to go wherever one liked without feeling the need to hide, and at the end of the day, to have a secure home to go back to and a loving family to cocoon oneself in. To be safe, always.

Was that really too much to ask? Yet these simple luxuries were not meant for people like her or Bond.

Instead, Bill Tanner sat opposite her and told her they needed her to sift through the wreckage that was her past and her shattered self, to seek out the enemies she had escaped from in order to put a stop to the madness engulfing her, and them.

It was time she focused on herself, played the game right to wrangle whatever she could from these people. Make sure she survived to live another day, just as she’d always done.

The bubble of enchantment had burst; her rescue fantasy was over. Her knight in shining armor was now her foremost accuser, and her life was once again in danger due to a madman from her past. She would just have to soldier on and be strong, seize opportunities to forge new, convenient alliances, and rely on no one but herself. She was used to it.

But, _God._

She was just _so_ tired.

* * *

**More Author’s Notes:** Dr. Swann’s clinical assessment of 007 is lifted from this interesting article from Psychology Today, entitled,[ **James Bond’s Psyche: The Personality Profile of the Dark Triad.**](https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/beautiful-minds/201007/james-bonds-psyche)


End file.
